Written Words, Hidden Truth
by Twitter Chan and Psycho Chan
Summary: HotStreak has finally been pushed too far. After being let out of jail and returning home, he learns that there is nothing to live for. But he needs to put that to the test. So he writes a note to someone he trusts, a note about how hes giving up on life.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: HotStreak has finally been pushed too far. After being let out of jail and returning home, he learns that there is nothing to live for. But he needs to put that to the test. So he writes a note to someone he trusts, a note about how he is giving up on life and the real reason he lives the way he does. It's that simple.

Psycho Chan's Note: Okay…here this goes. I thought this could be a really cute story if I work on it…a lot. Twitter Chan would kill me if I didn't make it cute. It all depends on how you people respond actually. I'll write this out and then depending on your reviews I'll add other chapters. But it all depends on reviews to be honest. I hope yous like it or my girlfriend will kill me…or brutally beat me. And I'm quite partial to things without the word brutal in them. Hope you like this.

Written Words, Hidden Truth

Hey Hawkins, it's Francis. You don't have to read this but this way when you see me on the news you'll know why I did it. I don't trust anyone else with this information. All I'm asking you to do is read this. A quick overview of my life so you know why I act the way I do. So I guess I'll apologize ahead of time. Trying to be someone else was harder than it seemed and was not worth the shit I had to hide. I cannot explain the things I say or do but I can try. That's all I can do.

When my mother cheated my father he went crazy. He became a drunk to put it simply. Then he grew an ugly side. He took my virginity at seven…and has been raping me several times a night since then. Then by the age of ten he started renting my body out to his drunk friends. The bruises and scars on my body are from them when I say no.

Not from my fighting with others.

All I'm useful for now is sex. And I don't even get a say in it. I get more clients now because of my fuckin' powers. I even get fucked by two men while I'm forced to suck another off. I'm sick of my life if you can even call it that. I'm not wanted anywhere. I can't hold on anymore when I'm stretched so thin. I can't rely on myself so I'm trusting you, you can stop this. Stop this choice I'm making. I can't hold on anymore, it's just too much to take. If I hide my pride and let this go on then he'll take more of me 'till everything is gone.

Part of me will never go away, I have no control over it. I want to cut it out of me and just live with a gaping hole. I never asked for my troubles but I ask that you'll listen. All I want is to be understood and not live a lie, even if it's only one person. I hang my head low because this is all apart of me. I am a prostitute, a sex toy and a punching bag, but only to you. To everyone else I'm an asshole with no future. I'd rather be an asshole than some one who's weak.

Every night I get new scars to cover the old ones. But now I'm sick of it. I can't stand the sandpaper thoughts that are grinding away my sanity. I rather not even be the man who stares at me in the fuckin mirror. So now while you're reading this I will cut myself free from this, so I can stop what's slowly killing me. Freedom can be frightening when you've never felt it before. So I'm ending my suffering before tomorrow, I just wanted one person to know the real me. I just hope my next life is better than this one.

Wish me luck Virgil. It's my final request.


	2. Exposed for Who he Truly is

Exposed for Who he Truly is

_No. No way. No fuckin' way._

This was unreal. No way this could happen. There was no way Francis was thinking _suicide_. There was no way _HotStreak _was going to _kill _himself.

Virgil stared at the note in his hands. It was on a crumpled up sheet of notebook paper. Creases where it was once folded, tape in the corner where it was attached to the inside of the locker door. _Virgil's _locker. The little runt who the man use to beat. He was putting his life in _his _hands. Black ink explaining everything about the man. Everything in his poor handwriting. Just, everything.

But why? Why him? Why now? Just…_why?_

Didn't matter. At the moment, millions of questions were running through Virgil's mind. Damn near all of them he was unable to understand. Here he was, standing in the middle of an empty hall, reading a note from Francis Stone. Virgil wasn't even sure when the note was written or when it was put in his locker. For all he knew, Francis could have already taken his life.

Without hesitation, Virgil slammed his locker door shut, running down the hall. He had two choices. Go out there and find Francis or let him die. Letting him die would mean that there is one less trouble maker out there. One less metahuman for Static to take care of. One less problem for the police and one less reason for people to run for their safety.

But this was a person's life.

The young man didn't even consider the thought of letting him die. However, now he was faced with two new choices. Run around and look for the man on foot, or go as Static and search the air. He could find him easier and quicker then. Identity or not, this was life or death. He was going as Static. Virgil ran pass his teachers, pass his principle, out the front doors and down the street.

It may have been HotStreak's life, but the again, he didn't have much of a life. It wasn't his fault. The way he turned out was not his fault. And only Virgil knew it, rereading the letter to him in his hands. Rereading the words that should never have been written, never been thought of. Never should be the reason for ending anybody's life.

He was not going to let someone die if he could stop it. And he could.


	3. Need to be Needed

Need to be Needed

"I shoulda guessed…" A red headed teen sits on the end of a wooden dock. It was now late, the sun making its way down to wake up the other half of the earth. The disturbed man sits with his legs over the end, his feet nearly touching the water beneath. Though he did not touch the water, the rope tied around his foot was, causing rapid ripples in the slow moving water surface. Green eyes gaze into the water below, looking into the reflection. He saw himself. And he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

HotStreak felt like he was drowning. Drowning in everything he shouldn't have to deal with. No matter what he does he can't break free. Ending his life was the only solution he found, only something kept him alive. When he got his powers, he thought he could fight his father. Thought he could fight for his freedom. Only that didn't work out as nicely as he had wished.

In fact, Francis had even began to loath his powers. Though they gave him strength and power, they were also a complete success for his father's business. People began to lust for the heat only HotStreak could provide. The heat that never seems to die. Many found it addicting, including Jay. Again, Francis was trapped, and he could not get out of the hole he was pushed into.

Running a large hand through dirty red hair, HotStreak sighs. He honestly didn't know why he wrote a note. Or why he wrote one to Virgil to all people. That boy probably didn't care about him. Why would he? Francis was a bully and a twisted man. It wasn't his fault. He was just raised a brute. And he played that part pretty damn good too.

Anger rides in Francis's mind. The reflection he was gazing at wasn't his. It was his father's. He was Jay's spitting image. Pale skin, narrowed green eyes full of spite and aversion, hair red as the pits of Hell with staining blonde streaks. To make matters worse, they sound the same, from the raspy voice to the dialect of street they use. Francis hated that. Hated his father, hated his face, hated everything, including himself. It wasn't fair that he was born into this. It wasn't fair that he wasn't strong enough to get out without killing himself. It just wasn't fair.

The reason he wrote the note? Simple. Virgil was the only good person he knew. And if he thought that someone like him deserves to live, than he could fight a little longer. Find a way to escape his father and his clients. Everything was in Virgil Hawkin's hands, and it wasn't looking too good. He stuffed that note in his locker at about seven this morning. Now it's about ten, the sun long gone and the moon shining dully, the light being a single street lamp at the other end of the dock.

"Guess…I'm nothin' like Jay said after all…" He placed his hand on the hunk of concrete that accompanied him.

There was a sound behind him, but he didn't bother looking, thinking it was just another wild animal. HotStreak was wrong. Footsteps soon followed, confusing the red headed teenager.

He turned around to see a darker skinned teen in a black and blue trench coat with bright yellow lining. "Static?" He starred at him in confusion, then made the connection by the expression of sheer worry in the teen's face. "Virgil?"

Taking his mask off, Virgil could not keep his eyes off the object that rope was tied to. There was a cinder block next to HotStreak, right at the end of the dock. There was rope tied securely around one end of it, the other end of the rope tied loosely around the man's left foot. Of all way to kill himself, Francis was going to drown himself.

"What are you…" Virgil was confused and scared. Francis Jay Stone was really gonna try to kill himself. "What are you doing? Untie that…"

HotStreak gazes up at the hero, as if waiting for something to happen.

"Please…untie that…" Virgil tried again, slowly stepping forward. "You can't do this…you can't just end your life Francis…please…"

"What am I suppose to do?" HotStreak asks slowly. "I have nothing…"

"It doesn't matter what you have. Just don't do this." Extreme worry fills the younger teen's voice. He may not have liked the man but he couldn't let him die. Not for what he's been through. He is disheartened when the red head turns his head away from him. "Francis…please…you wrote the note to see if I'd stop you. I'm stopping you. Just _please_."

"How can you want me not to? After everything I put you through…" HotStreak looks into his reflection, seeing Jay once more. "How can something like me just live? I'm nothing…complete trash that no one will miss…that no one wants…"

"Francis…please don't do this. You're not what you think you are or what your father says you are. You are a person…a person with a soul…"

"Some soul I have…"

"Than change…"

"I can't change…" HotStreak sets his hand on the block again. "I just can't…It's too late to go back…"

"Francis! Don't!" Virgil watches in horror as his bully/enemy pushes the block over the edge of the dock, making a sickening clunk sound. His life slows down as the rope made a whipping sound, quickly dragging the fiery red head under with it. HotStreak let himself be taken into the water, drowning for real now.

The cold water took him in, for the first time in a long time Francis felt as cold on the outside as he did on the inside. It was odd for him, he was looking up at the water's surface, the moon nothing more that rapid waves.

Then his sight began to grow hazy, the light above him nothing but a blur now.

Nothing more than a mere white blur in a black abyss.


	4. Help From Within

Psycho Chan's Note: Twitter Chan urged me to type up another story. She's the kind of person who hates to wait…so…I'm pushing myself to type this up quick. I just finished unpacking my clothes. New home! Yay! Anyway, I have a lot to do but I'm gonna write this for those of you who almost care about my poor attempts at what I call stories.

Help from Within

Something was Different. The last thing he remembered was looking at the moon from the under the water's surface. He even remembers the world going black, slowly suffocating as the taste of bay water filled his mouth. Now that taste was gone along with the feeling of being crushed by water. However, it was dark. HotStreak was surrounded by blackness, he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't see anything. Not anything to prove he was _alive_. Maybe he wasn't. The only thing that Francis could recognize as living was the fact he could still think. He could still remember things.

The man wasn't hot nor cold. He was just, there. With nothing to really do but ask more questions, HotStreak walks forward, his feet walking over a black abyss as he moves forward with no sign of really going anywhere. It seemed like hours. The eerie silence followed him to nowhere.

In the very distance, HotStreak saw a light. Desperate for a change, he walked over to it, the light not getting any closer. For the first time, Francis hated being alone. He believed that when you die, that was it. You die. There was no Heaven or Hell, just, nothing. That was it. No abysses or creepy silences. To be honest with himself, he liked it better in the lake.

"You don't want to go to the light."

Beyond confused, HotStreak stops, looking around to see someone, however, no one was present. "And why the hell not?"

"That's simple. When you reach the light you die."

This was a little creepier now that he was talking to someone but was still alone. "That's kind of the point of suicide, ain't it?" Annoyed of this, HotStreak continues his walk to the light, slipping his hands into his jeans, which were soaked with water.

"You don't really want to die, do you?" That voice was really getting on his nerves.

"I tied my foot to a hunk of cement. I'm pretty damn sure that meant I wanted to die." Shaking his head, HotStreak sighs. Even in a world of dead…voices…he was surrounded by complete idiots.

"You didn't really want to kill yourself though. You wanted that kid to stop you. He was, but you did it anyway…"

Hearing that, Francis stops, straightening his back. "How do you know that?" The light wasn't any closer yet.

"That's simple too."

Before the red head can try to leave the nothing again, a person appears in front of him. Someone he recognized, but shouldn't have been able to. A boy no older than six appeared, wearing the same color cargo jeans as himself except they were held firmly by a belt. He wore a black shirt with the Batman spot light print in the center of it. The shirt itself was a little to big. Big green eyes look up at HotStreak as a lock of red and gold hair drape down in front of the boy's pale skin. It was himself. HotStreak was looking at himself as a…child?

"How the hell is that simple?" HotStreak gapes at the child in shock. In fact, this made things more complicated and confusing. He was dead. Things weren't suppose to be confusing. "This din't clear anythin' up!"

The boy blinks. "I'm a part of you."

"I figured that out. I ain't stupid."

"I'm your conscience."

Dumbfounded, HotStreak continues his gaping. "Why the hell are you so young?"

The child laughs softly. "Because I haven't fully developed yet."

HotStreak is not impressed. "_Real cute_…but why are _you _talkin' to _me_?"

"To stop you from crossing into the light dummy."

For some reason, HotStreak wanted to punch the brat. Even if it was himself in some way or another.

"Why else? No one else really seems to care about you."

"No one else? There's more of you here?"

"There's more of _you _in here, this is your soul. You're not dead yet. I seem to be the only one who believes that you have a shot at living yet." Sadness grows in the child's face as he says this. HotStreak's emotions didn't care and neither did his other half. Seems the boy was the only one who wanted to live. It wasn't just that. This boy, who was also beaten, raped and sold, was the only one who wanted to fight Jay. Fight, a child, an adult. This just freaked HotStreak the hell out. This wasn't right. Here he was, at eighteen, ready to kill himself, when the child that was never allowed to be a child was willing to fight.

"You think I can take Jay?" HotStreak was just amazed at this.

The child looks up again with hope in his large eyes. He nods wildly, sending his short hair all over the place. "Yes I do. Especially with Virgil by your side."

"Wait…" That struck Francis as odd. "By my side?"

"Yup. Why else would you write a note to him?" The child smiles wildly, playing with an orange string bracelet on his left wrist.

"I donno why I sent it to him. I just did." HotStreak shrugs, wondering why the hell he was talking to the kid. He hated kids. Even if it was himself.

"You really are stupid. You _like _him."

Okay, _that _struck Francis as fucking odd. "What do you mean I like him? He's some geek I beat at school for the hell of it."

"Keep telling yourself that." The kid mocks, pulling off the orange string that seemed oddly familiar.

"I ain't gay. I'm sold to men, don't mean I-"

"Denial is right…" The kid interrupts, remembering another part of Francis in this dark place. "rejection to an idea or thought is an ugly thing." Now the boy laughs.

Hearing this, Francis's face heats up in misplaced embarrassment. "Hey, I don't-"

"Have you made up you're mind?"

"Huh?"

Again, HotStreak is confused.

"Did you make up your mind about the light? You've been here too long. Either die and move on or return."

"How can I return? I'm underwater. Kid, you're stupid."

Irritated, the self claimed conscience stomps his foot onto nothing, or a seemingly invisible flooring. "I'm you for one so you just called yourself stupid, stupid. It's not your time to go yet, see?"

Seeing the kid point at his larger being, HotStreak looks at his hands to see that they are fading. "What's happenin'?" The man asks, again, a little more than a little lost.

"Here." The kid holds out the orange bracelet. With nothing else to do, HotStreak grabs it. "It's so you don't forget what we talked about. Mommy made it before she left for good. You probably forgot about it, but she said that when you're big and strong, you need to leave Jay. Guess you really did forget." With half sadness and half joy, the little red head waves slowly. "Don't forget again. You may not be strong alone but with someone else…you don't know. You've never been close to anyone since Mommy…"

"Wait." HotStreak held the orange string tightly as an icy cold feeling rushed into his large body. "I don't understand. I don't get any of this. How can-"

Nothing.


	5. Acceptance Of Past Denial

Psycho Chan's Note: Hey peoples! Well, I thought about what Keshia-151 had asked and I'll answer by simply saying…yes…I tinkered with my idea a little bit and now I've roughly got an idea for some good ol fashion romance. I wasn't sure if anybody wanted it though. See, I'm a pervert. And I'm damn proud of it. So most of our stories are either smut or cute…cute being created by the hands of Twitter Chan though I type it. We write smut together…I'm the one responsible for most of the drama and stuff…and I'm damn proud of it.

Acceptance of Past Denial

The boy was gone along with the light. Francis was in the dark again, only this time, he felt cold. Very cold.

And Francis didn't like it. He hated it more than before. This time, he was laying on his back, eyes closed. They were too heavy for him to open, and he wasn't breathing. He could not hear a thing. Suffocation fills the man once more. No matter how hard he tried, Francis could not move. He could not scream. He couldn't do anything. Panic quickly sank into him.

Something was wrong. Something didn't feel right. HotStreak felt lost and forgotten. Something important and needed.

There was a push on his chest. A couple hard thrusting on his chest, causing a sharp breath to escape the man. Then suddenly, the unpleasant taste of murky water fills his mouth, the water coming from inside him. Then everything returned to him in a disorienting flash.

The first thing was the taste of water as he coughed harshly, farcing air into his lungs, which he could feel water escaping out of. The smell exhaust mixed with the fresh scent of leaves flood his nostrils along with the dull light of the moon. It took him a moment to realize he was alive and now breathing.

And that he wasn't alone. Now able to breath, though strained, Francis looks around in a daze. Stars masked by thin clouds are viewed as green eyes blink in confusion and clarity. He was alive. But how?

Francis was further confused to hear sobbing, straining to sit up however was too weak to. HotStreak looks over to see Virgil staring at him with wide brown eyes, dry cheeks with streams of tears. Upon second glance, the pyro realizes that Virgil was drenched in water. He had dived in to save him. "Virgil?" was barely heard through Francis's raspy voice and sore throat.

The darker skinned man chokes back more sobs, leaning over his bully's body. "Don't do that again. I was so afraid you wouldn't make it…I thought you were gone for a while…" Virgil rests his head on the man's chest in relief. Death was something he could never deal with. In fact, he never really got over his mother's death. It was just something Virgil tried to avoid at all costs.

HotStreak was still somewhat confused. "What happened?" The last thing he remembered that was _real _was sinking in the water. The last thing he could _recall _was a lot of blackness.

"You pushed that cinder block in the water and I jumped in after you…" Virgil couldn't help but tear up again. The image of watching someone like Francis push himself into suicide without _hesitation _would never leave him. Neither will the image of watching that body sink without any resistance. The worst of it was hauling Francis back onto the dock, the once hot body freezing to the touch, not breathing and skin white as a ghost. None of that will go away.

But he was _alive_. That was all that mattered.

"Why?" HotStreak was lost. He bullied Virgil. Bad. And then there was the fact that he was Static. He fought him, hurt him, threatened him. Didn't make any sense that the hero would save him. Well, maybe it did. But still. He was a teenager. Teens do stuff they later regret. "Why would you save me?"

"Why would you pick me to decide rather or not you deserve to live?" Virgil quips back, enjoying the heat that is HotStreak's power returning to him. "It's because you don't deserve to die. Suicide isn't the answer."

HotStreak accepted the answer he got, too tired to argue. He just stared up at the stars, thinking of what to do. What he _should _do. He thought about running away a few times but he has nowhere to go. He can't hold a job with being wanted and even if he wasn't, his temper was just nasty to deal with. At the moment, he just wanted to relax. He was close to dying, he just wanted to rest.

As much as he wanted to sleep, he just couldn't close his eyes. Glancing down at the boy on his chest, HotStreak notices that Virgil's eyes were closed, most likely asleep. For some reason, he couldn't look away from the other teen.

Something was new. A feeling the man never before felt. He use to torture the boy, only now he had the need to, dare he think it, protect him instead. Nurture him even. Francis slept with many men, and never gave a shit about any of them. Virgil however was different, and he hadn't even slept with the geek. Only now he kind of wanted to. Not just fuck him though.

_Hold _him. _Touch _him. _Kiss _him.

Those were things the mocha skinned teen deserved. He didn't deserve a whore who sleeps with his father to stay alive.

However, a voice in his head was saying other wise. It was a familiar voice and yet not. It was telling him take a chance with the younger teen. Take that chance that could possibly change his life for the better. Give him something to fight for. Something to live for.

It was only once voice, and it sounded so sure of itself. So sure that this would work. So sure that the two were destined to be lovers, to be together. But that couldn't be right. No way that could happen. Not with the life Francis had. Couldn't be right.

Could it?

Green eyes flicker down at the sleeping hero once again only this time it was more out of nervousness. Even if Francis were to admit to himself that he had feelings for the other man, odds of Virgil returning them are slim. He was a hero, he's suppose to save lives. Even if they were his enemies.

But then why stay? And why lay on…

HotStreak's body grows warmer at the realization that Virgil was using him as a pillow. He stayed around instead of running away the first chance he got. Surely a hero wouldn't do that, so maybe it wasn't Static who saved him, but Virgil instead. The two may be the same person but they still have different personalities as weird as that sounds.

Frustrated, HotStreak runs his hand through his wet hair, most of the gel had been washed out. Something catches his attention.

An orange bracelet made of small braided string. It was this time that Francis remembers talking to what was suppose to be his conscience. And what the kid had told him. But there was no way he could actually have the bracelet. The kid wasn't real. This wasn't real. No way. No freaking way.

But it was.

Still inspecting the brightly colored material of the string, Francis keeps the bracelet above him, nearly gaping at it. Now that he thinks about it, his mother did make it for him. And she did tell him that she was going away, and that she'd never come back. Diana also told him that he had to be a brave boy until he was old enough to take care of himself. Told him to run away the first chance he got. His mother was nearly in tears, she could not take her son out of fear of her husband. She could not take care of herself nonetheless a child. She left, and Francis never saw her again. It was for the best.

"What's that?"

Startled, HotStreak looks at the mocha skinned teen he _thought _was asleep. "A bracelet." Francis smirks at the dumb question.

Virgil rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but where did it come from? You had it when you woke up…but not when you went into the water…"

The older man shrugs. "I'm not sure where I got it to be honest, but it was the last gift I got from my mother before she left." Virgil keeps is attention on HotStreak. "She left me with Jay…I'm not sure why…but she left me behind…I never saw her again. But she wanted me to abandon my father the first chance I get…"

"You remember your mother?" Virgil asks slowly, lazily reaching out to the bracelet.

"Not really…" HotStreak watches Virgil play with the string in his pale hand. "She left when I was seven. She was pregnant with another man's child…she took all of Jay's money and ran off with the other man…he treated her good…" HotStreak pauses for a second. "I really don't remember her. I try not to…she abandoned me for a better life. I don't blame her but…she should have brought me. She knew what Jay was like and what he does…" Before Virgil can take away his hand, Francis loops the bracelet over dark fingers, pulling the colored sting down to a thin wrist. "I had forgotten she told me to run away until now."

Looking at the object around his wrist, Virgil sits up, lifting his head off of the other man's chest. "Why don't you run away?"

HotStreak sits up, looking Virgil right in the eye. "Because I'm not strong enough yet." Cautiously, the pyrokinetic teen laces his fingers through Virgil's.

A slight blush creeps into Virgil's adorable face. "Yet?"

"I can be…" HotStreak takes that leap of faith. "If you're there with me."

Brown eyes widen at the way that was said, with care and extreme caution. Like he was afraid to say it out loud. Virgil blushes at those timidly spoken words. Francis was no longer his bully but now his enemy. But at the moment, it was as if he was neither on of those. He wasn't a victim anymore either. He was…

Virgil was absolutely speechless as the other man brings his darker hand to his lips, kissing the back of his hand. "HotStreak?" Bewilderment floods the raven haired boy as those warm lips travel up his arm slowly, kissing gently on the journey up skin. When those kisses reach his upper arm, Virgil shivers, blushing brightly now. "H-HotStreak…?" was murmured under quivering lips. The man ignores him, his hot lips reaching the base of his neck. For some odd reason, Virgil could not find the strength to fight off the older teen.

HotStreak's mind was seemingly blank as he absently kissed Virgil's ebony skin, feeling both goosebumps and shivers on his lips. Though he was raised for sex, it was never really consensual. Often, Francis felt used, being forced to fondle the random men Jay locked in his room. However, touching Virgil was not unappealing as it was to everyone else. In fact, it felt great, like it was right or okay. Like it wasn't wrong to want another man.

More pressure was added to the kisses, which were slowly headed up Virgil's neck. "Francis" was moaned quietly, this time, there was no hint of questioning. The younger man even tilted his head for HotStreak, who pinned the smaller body on the wooden dock with the utmost care.

At first, Virgil worried if HotStreak was doing this because he had stated that he was raised to do this. However, it seemed like Francis was doing it because he wanted to. Every touch was careful, gentle and caring. For the first time, HotStreak was treating Virgil's body with cherishment. Now he worried about how far this would go and if it would bother the red head later.

Another quiet moan escapes Virgil as two large hands massage his sides over his wet tang top. More shivers course through his body as HotStreak's kisses move up his neck and over his jaw line. Unable to take it anymore, Virgil tilts his head slightly, catching one of those kisses on his own lips. This action took Francis by surprise but loved it. Shivering himself, HotStreak places passionate kisses on the hero's lips, who clumsily returned the gesture.

For once, the older teen not only thought that everything would be okay but believed it too.

Pale hands skim up dark skin, traveling underneath darker cloth. Static shivered as a need began to sink into his own tainted mind. He wanted HotStreak. Really wanted, and he was okay with it. This was dangerous, being with the unstable man like this. But there was a feeling that Francis was only a danger to himself tonight. There was a knowing that as long as he was there, HotStreak would not be a problem. In fact…

A sharp sound of surprise escapes the hero as a thick finger penetrates him, poking through the tight ring and working it's way through his muscles. Through the tightening and the constricting. The feeling was awkward, not too pleasing but not hurtful either.

"Relax."

Trusting the other man's words, Virgil takes a deep breath, attempting to do so. The feeling didn't go away, however, he could feel the digit within him move easier. However, when the red head enters another finger, it was harder for Virgil to listen. The pain of being stretched for the first time was more than just a sting, a faint hissing sound slips through his lips. The feeling didn't ease, those two thick fingers not only stretching him but moving within him, rubbing at his walls.

HotStreak watched the raven haired boys every expression. First it was annoyance then pain. However, there was still trust in his eyes. Still trust in him, Francis, of all people. Delighted to be able to actually see this, the fire manipulator continues feeling around, sensing the muscles in the hero relax, ready for the taking. The man continues his ministrations, wanting the younger man to be able to feel the pleasure soon to come.

With his hips moving slightly, Virgil's breaths start to come in short pants, the very feeling of HotStreak feeling around in him taking his breath away. It had started to actually feel pretty good, a tingle slowly working into his body. Then those fingers tap into something that makes his hips buck towards HotStreak's hand. A shocked moan is heard from deep within his chest as the other man continues to rub at that spot, causing the hero to writhe on the dock, his eyes roll into the back of his head.

The sight of the man's pleasure was too much for Francis to take. Too much to just sit and watch, knowing that those sounds of pleasure was because of him. Because of his touch. Removing his fingers, HotStreak carefully unbuckles himself, surprised to see a pair of dark gloved hands unzip his pants.

Virgil was helping him free his obvious erection, actually encouraging him to go on. With a warming smile, HotStreak let his pants lower on his hips, leaning over the younger man. This was much different from any other man he was matched with. This was much different, what was about to take place wasn't pointless. It was everything that the red head had dreamed his first time should have been. With someone who cares, someone who matters. Even if it did take a near death experience to open his eyes.

The hero's face lit up in pain as HotStreak pushed into him, opening him. Static made a harsh mewling sound, bearing the extreme discomfort of the feeling of being torn open. He opened his eyes upon feeling a light nibble on his ear. "It's okay." HotStreak whispered into his ear, his breath hot against his neck. With a nod, Virgil takes shuddered breaths as HotStreak is fully sheathed within him. The very pulse of the other man throbbing into his constricting muscles.

Things picked up as the red head pulls his hips slowly, so the unadulterated teen could get use to the tugging. He could feel the youth tensing to the new sensation, legs twitching at each tug or push. Awkward moans were slipping through parted lips with every motion, a blush forming with every kiss and every caress. Then, just like before, Static's hips bucked toward the sensation, a loud groan escaping him. The search for that spot was over as HotStreak picked up speed, sinking into the hero's depths quickly. Virgil is unable to keep to himself, clawing at the man's back, wiggling his hips as his body moved in short waves.

Everything seemed to be too much for the hero. The fierce thrusting had him arching off the dock, his fingers having found their way through two wooden board in an desperate attempt for some sort of control of his body. Loud moans poured out of his open mouth, failing at every attempt to muffle them down. The way HotStreak had his face pressed against his neck, faint groans could be heard and felt against hot skin. The way Francis kept his hips still with a firm grip, keeping full control of the darker body. Everything took Virgil quickly, pleasure ripping through his body for the very first time.

Virgil was taken by surprise as his entire body suddenly tensed, a shuddered groan forcing it's way out of his mouth, emptying his lungs of oxygen. The teenager's knuckles turn a dark shade of white as his grip tightens, that all too familiar tingle of electricity surging through him. With the sparks starting in his hands, they worked their way up his arms, shooting straight through his body, taking the older man by surprise.

With the burst of uncontrollable energy, HotStreak shudders in response, jerking his body as he tried to regain control of Virgil's body from when he had just momentarily lost his grip. Virgil's body continued to ride out it's orgasm as he came, hard.

The further tightening around his length was too much. Francis shook, releasing himself shortly after the mocha skinned teen. Virgil felt the hot fluid fill him, a gasp of surprise taking his plump lips as he arched high off securely placed wooden boards.

Both bodies stop all movements, taking this time to recover. Virgil pants desperately, ignoring the cooling sweat on his skin as HotStreak inhales deeply. Loving the smell that surrounded him, the all too familiar scent of sex, only this time was uncommon from any other time. The man's arms shake slightly from exhaustion, however, not having quite a ways before hitting their limit yet. The older man pulls out of the younger teen, making a slick sound as he does so.

There is a soft groan from the man on his back as his body rids of the other man's seed. The very feeling was different, something that felt as if it would take forever to get use to. It probably would. Opening his brown eyes, Virgil could not believe the sight he saw.

Once fierce green eyes gaze down at him, now a tender warmth seem to emanate from them, still with that flicker of fire. Soft smile, something he had never seen on the other man before. His hair sticking to his face from the gel having been washed out. The moon glowing softly above, stars twinkling brightly. Something that most girls probably dream about, sex underneath the romantic moon light with the man they love.

With his heart skipping a beat at the word love, Virgil feels his face heat up. This seemed too perfect. He knew that he would have to help Francis face his father, and knew that he would not let his son go without a fight. However, that would wait.

Now was not a time to worry about what will come. Now was all about that moment, the feelings, the need, the want, the total emotion.

Francis helps Virgil dress before making himself decent. Both still surprised by the fact of what they had just done, but somehow not. Sitting at the edge of the dock, Static hangs his feet over the water, gazing out into the lake. Strong arms wrap around him, feet hanging by off the side to dangle with his own.

"Thanks." HotStreak whispers, resting his chin on the other boys shoulder.

"For what?" Virgil was a little confused at first, but then realized that what he had just asked was a little stupid considering he had just saved his life.

"For needing me."

Embarrassed, Virgil rests his body into the other man's, enjoying the heat. "Just don't scare me like that again." The hero looks to the moon once more. "If I hadn't found you, I don't know what I would have done."

The hold on him tightens. "I won't. One near death experience is more than enough for me." HotStreak and Virgil share a small chuckle. _Especially with a little brat who can't keep his damn insults to himself…myself…_

"I would sure hope so." Virgil closes his eyes. "You're mine and I'm not gonna lose you, not even to the big guy upstairs."

Francis's lips curl into a soft smile at that. "Din't know you were possessive Virg."

"Only to things that are worth keeping Francis. Only things that are worth keeping."


End file.
